


the home we build

by radiantarrow



Category: UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, No Angst, a little too much wenjoo i guess but can you blame me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiantarrow/pseuds/radiantarrow
Summary: Seungyoun puts his hand into his bag, rummaging, and when he finally finds what he's looking for, his face goes through a series of expressions — Sungjoo finds he can still read them clear as day: joy, expectancy, reluctance, wistfulness, happiness. He pulls out two long pieces of paper and slides one of them across the table.Sungjoo picks it up and freezes for a second when he realizes what it is. A flight-ticket to Beijing.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	the home we build

**Author's Note:**

> This is not really proof-read and more than anything it's a thought dump. This came to me at 4am after being hit with a wave of missing UNIQ the night before !

It's not unexpected, seeing Seungyoun. One of his hands in his pocket while the other one is busy scrolling away on his phone. He hasn't noticed Sungjoo yet, and Sungjoo takes the opportunity to take him in – _truly_ take him in. He had left when Seungyoun's wounds were still fresh, when his hurt was still palpable. They've been in contact, obviously they have, so the blue hair doesn't startle him. He's happy that Seungyoun hasn't been lying to him when he assured he was better, happy in a way he hadn't felt for months. It's obvious: in the relaxed way he leans on the wall, his shoulders set comfortably; he looks at peace. Sungjoo smiles.

“Seungyoun-ah," he calls, and is rewarded with a bright smile and crescent eyes.

“Hyung," he answers, crossing the little distance between them and enveloping him in a hug. That, however, is a little unexpected. Seungyoun prefers quick side hugs, the brush of shoulders - not bear hugs. “I missed you,” he says into Sungjoo's shirt, and Sungjoo squeezes him a bit tighter before he replies "I missed you, too."

They get into the van, same beige leather seats he has long gotten used to seeing, albeit a little too big for two people only. He wills himself not to let his mind wander down that route, focusing instead on Seungyoun's chatter, a welcome sound. Seungyoun has decided on a place for them to eat their breakfast it seems.

They eat, telling each other about their adventures — and perhaps they couldn't be more different, but it's not exactly something that has ever caused them to run out of topics before. Steady and comfortable, as always, like many Thursdays before this one.

They finish eating and pay the bill — Seungyoun's treat, "as a thanks for serving the country," he says with a cheeky grin, when Sungjoo tries to protest.

Seungyoun puts his hand into his bag, rummaging, and when he finally finds what he's looking for, his face goes through a series of expressions — Sungjoo finds he can still read them clear as day: joy, expectancy, reluctance, wistfulness, happiness. He pulls out two long pieces of paper and slides one of them across the table.

Sungjoo picks it up and freezes for a second when he realizes what it is. A flight-ticket to Beijing, over the long weekend that he's been granted because it's a national holiday tomorrow. When he looks up at Seungyoun, the younger one says “All schedules are cleared. Ilkyu hyung is basically fluent in Mandarin at this point, with the amount of fighting he did with the staff overseas."

Sungjoo laughs and asks “When are we leaving?", he's not too bothered about packing, he'll just take turns stealing clothes from Yixuan and Wenhan. Seungyoun puts both of his hands on the table, stands up and declares “Now."

* * *

He's not sure what he expected when they arrived, but it's certainly not the crowd he's met with: There are barriers and a lot of security guards. He barely has any time to adjust to what's happening before his eyes fall upon the frames of the three people he has anxiously been waiting to see again. They're all grinning from ear to ear, Sungjoo can feel his own mouth breaking into a grin that matches theirs.

He hugs Yibo first, can hear fans screaming in the background and see camera flashes going off, and while Yibo hasn't grown a lot since the last time they saw each other not even a year ago, it still feels different when he compares it to hugging a teenager with a bleach blonde bob that would beg him to make him ramen. He knows he's been hugging him for a little too long at this point, and can see Seungyoun shuffling over to hug Yibo too, so he reluctantly lets go. Yibo ruffles his buzzcut, and it reminds him of mere months ago, back when Yibo had done the same to Yixuan.

The eldest doesn't hesitate to envelop him in a tight hug. He pats his back a couple of times, and then lets go. It's strong, brief, and still conveys everything he needs to know. it's an _I missed you, I'm glad to see you again_ , and an _I hope you've been well_ all at the same time. That’s why Yixuan has always felt more like a leader than himself, he muses, because he doesn’t necessarily need big gestures to make a big impact.

Looking at Wenhan knocks the breath out of him — they haven’t been able to spend a lot of time face to face ever since Wenhan succeeded in Idol Producer, and while he knew all along, realistically, that Wenhan was growing into himself just as he has been, looking at him now makes him think of their teenage years, sharing a room and getting overly sentimental at night. He remembers the soft hum of their voices at 2am when they should long have been asleep. He looks at him now, his same age friend, a soft smile on his face and his eyes shining with a mirth that Sungjoo is glad has never gone away.

He hugs him tightly, says “Munhan-ah” rather than Wenhan, because it’s always been a running gag that the ’94 liners are better at languages than the rest of them. “Shengzhu,” Wenhan cackles in reply “are you planning on getting even broader?”. Sungjoo puffs out his chest a little at the words — it’s really awkward because Wenhan still has his arms wrapped around him, but they both laugh nonetheless.

* * *

They drive back to Yibo’s place, arguing about what to eat on the drive back. It’s _loud_ and his brain struggles to pick up on the separate conversations happening because everyone keeps switching between Korean and Mandarin, either to translate for Seungyoun (Yixuan), or to infuriate him further by using words he cannot possibly know (Wenhan). It’s loud and chaotic, and it feels like home.

They settle on hotpot in the end because it’s customisable to their liking while also giving Seungyoun the _authentic Chinese cuisine_ he’s been vocally complaining about being _oh so horribly_ deprived of back in Korea. They eat, they laugh, and it’s like they’re teleported back to early 2016, not a care in the world.

Wenhan checks Weibo and informs them variations of UNIQ are trending on number three, five and eleven on the hotchart. They cheer a little, it’s incredibly cheesy, but it feels good to hear that after years of inactivity, their individual efforts have been impactful enough to make people remember them the way they used to.

Wenhan snaps a picture of the table and posts it — no caption because he technically isn’t allowed to explicitly mention UNIQ for another few months. The rest of them make up for it, posting set after set of selfies, and Sungjoo can’t suppress the want to caption his post “U & I”, not when he hasn’t felt this happy in years.

“I’ve been in contact with the company,” Yixuan says, when they’re almost finished eating, and Wenhan snorts. Yibo giggles loudly — Sungjoo is delighted to find out his shoulders still shake with the force of his happiness — while Seungyoun just looks a little puzzled.

“Dating news” Sungjoo supplies, because he vividly remembers a string of messages in their WeChat groupchat asking how he can reset his Weibo password. Seungyoun makes an _ahhh_ sound.

Yixuan smacks Wenhan’s arm, who glares in response and sticks out his tongue, “Not about that,” Yibo raises a perfectly filled in eyebrow, “okay, also about that. But that’s not what I meant to say.”

They all look at him expectantly, because even after all these years they can easily tell when Yixuan uses what they have dubbed his leader voice. “G-Dragon is the face of a Chinese brand, Jay Park is rumored to be a mentor on Rapstar of China, and the government has agreed to host a festival with Chinese, Japanese and Korean artists.”

A silence settles over the room, the clatter of their chopsticks stops, and they all look at each other. Sungjoo doesn’t dare ask, scared it’s an illusion and he’ll jinx it should he voice his thoughts out loud.

“They’ve asked Seungyoun to promote his album on Weibo for a reason, apparently. They say individual projects would always be possible — a sort of half and half thing.”

Another heavy silence.

“Fuck individual projects,” Yibo says, “I’ve had enough of those to last me a lifetime.” Wenhan raises his glass, it’s only coke, but he pretends to toast to that anyway.

“It would need to be like that at first, to ensure commercial success, they say.” Yixuan interjects, his features emitting a softness that, as long as Sungjoo can remember, has only ever been reserved for Yibo. “It would be unfair anyway, to take Seungyoun away when he has finally started making a name for himself back home.”

Seungyoun frowns at that, “All I’ve ever wanted was to make music. It doesn’t need to be in Korea, I’ve never felt half as comfortable solo as I’ve felt in a group anyway.” Wenhan bumps their shoulders together lightly, a show of support.

“You’re not kidding?” Sungjoo asks Yixuan finally, “They’re letting us come back, if all goes well?”

“It seems like it. They’re hoping that by fall next year, when you’re back, it will have been lifted completely. I sent in songs I’ve been writing over the past few years and you’re welcome to do the same,” he says that, then looks over at Seungyoun, knowing that realistically, with Yibo focusing on acting, Wenhan in Unine and Sungjoo himself in the military, he is the most likely to have songs in store. “Korean lyrics are fine. They’re thinking about sticking to the system of Korean and Chinese versions we’ve had before.”

Yibo gets up then, walks towards a cupboard and rummages for a few seconds, before he turns around with a bottle of wine in his hands. “Let’s celebrate.” It’s barely past four in the afternoon, and they really shouldn’t be drinking at this hour at all, but it’s not everyday you find out your lifelong dream to promote with your brothers is close to becoming reality once more. Throwing caution to the wind has never felt better.

They spend the rest of the day tipsily telling each other stories, laughing, and making sure they sober up enough before continuing to drink so they don’t get drunk off their asses. By the time the sun has started to set, they find themselves sprawled out all over each other — Wenhan had taken the initiative to transform the sofabed hours ago so that they could all comfortably fit. Seungyoun’s leg is thrown over Yibo’s while his head rests on Yixuan’s lap, and Yibo himself has one arm lazily thrown over Sungjoo’s leg. Wenhan is pressed to Sungjoo’s side, clingy in the way he becomes when he drinks. He has a frown on his face when he pokes at Sungjoo’s arm and squeezes it a little.

“You’re too strong now,” Wenhan decides after another few seconds of prodding against his arm. Sungjoo grins.

“You jealous?” he asks in return, and Wenhan’s eyebrows furrow while he thinks about the question.

“Don’t know. Maybe a little? Maybe not? Feels nice like this though.” To prove his point, Wenhan feels the need to rub his face along his biceps — it reminds Sungjoo of a cat. His tipsy brain decides he must strengthen the image his brain has provided, so he finds himself tracing whiskers onto Wenhan’s face with his finger. Yibo and Seungyoun laugh, and when Sungjoo turns he finds that Yibo has been recording them. Yixuan catches his eye, hand steadily brushing through Seungyoun’s hair; they smile at each other.

He’s _home,_ and even though this weekend will end entirely too quickly for his liking and he’ll be sleeping alongside strangers for a few more months, he knows he has a trusted home to return to.

**Author's Note:**

> In conclusion UNIQ best family, UNIQ comeback 2021


End file.
